Remember
by neminy-zebra
Summary: During the 75 Hunger Games, Peeta is saved by a girl from District 6. A morphling addict with an unknown name. What is her story? Her journey from tribute, to victor, to addict, to tribute again? I couldn't leave her nameless, her sacrifice unsung.
1. Memory

_The snow is soft. The snow is pretty. The snow is safe._ She told herself this over and over, wishing she could believe it. But she couldn't; even though she knew it was true. At least, _this_ snow was soft, pretty, and safe.

Janalen Marxel fought the urge to run and hide. Probably she'd trip and fall anyway, and that would just make things worse. Her coordination has been horrible ever since she turned to the morphling.

She had a hard time remembering her age, or what district she lived in, or even her name, sometimes. But she knew that the snow was her enemy, even if she couldn't remember why all the time.

_That's right_, she thought. _I am 32 years old. I am a victor from District 6. My name is Janalen Marxel._ She closed her eyes tightly. Why can she never seem to remember that? She opened her eyes and looked at the syringe in her hand. She injected it into her arm and forgot again.

Days, sometimes weeks, passed in this way. She rode on a constant high, forgetting, but not even realizing she had forgotten anything. Then, suddenly, the high would leave and she would remember. Either remember that she had forgotten, even if she couldn't remember what, or remember that time in perfect, agonizing detail. How could she remember every detail from those weeks so many years ago, but forget even her own name?

The snow had come and gone. She didn't know how many weeks it had been, but she was anxious to escape again. She went to her medicine cabinet. It was such a nice house. _Why am I here again?_ she asked herself. She couldn't quite bring it back to memory.

There was a knock at her door. Strange, because no one ever came to see her. She changed direction too suddenly for her legs to keep up, and she ended up sprawled on the kitchen floor. She lay there for what felt like a long time, but her judgment of time couldn't be trusted. She felt hands on her frail shoulders, pulling her to her feet.

She looked into a vaguely familiar face. She couldn't call up where she had seen this person before, but she did know that she knew them. The person's face was wet with tears.

"Jan," the person said quietly. "Do you know my name?" Janalen forced her eyes to look at the person's face in more detail. She still couldn't place it. She could tell that it was female, and her face was wet with tears.

"I'm your cousin, Yenia," the girl said sadly.

That did ring a faint bell. Janalen could _almost_ remember something. Almost.

Yenia closed her eyes tightly, more tears spilling out of her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she immediately looked toward the television in Janalen's living room. It was on. _Strange_, thought Janalen. _I don't remember turning it on._

Yenia looked at Janalen again. "I'm so sorry, Jan." The girl was sobbing now.

Janalen forced herself to speak to this strange girl, though speaking had become very difficult for her. "Why . . . you sorry?" she managed.

The girl looked up, startled. "Jan," she said quietly, as if she were a mouse about to flee. "They just announced the Quarter Quell. Don't you remember?"

If Janalen could remember how to laugh, she probably would have. "Can't . . . Remember."

Yenia started to cry again. "Each tribute this year is going to be a victor. You might have to go back into the arena." She ended with a sob.

_That_ got Janalen's attention. The arena. The one thing she could remember when she wished she could forget it. Those simple words broke the dam of her memory and every horrible detail came flooding into her mind. Remembering. . .


	2. Reaping

Janalen and Yenia were at work together. They were cousins and best friends, even though Yenia was almost four years older than Janalen, who had just turned 15. They both worked on the train quietly. Jan, who was only an apprentice, was cleaning off the wheels while 19 year old Yenia was actually doing something mechanical, though Jan wasn't experienced enough to tell what exactly she was doing. Usually they passed the time talking and laughing together, but Jan's mind was otherwise occupied and she ignored all attempts by Yenia to bring her into a conversation. Today was the reaping.

Janalen understood Yenia's elation. She was 19 and safe from the reaping from now on. Janalen had four more years to survive. Her family was better off than most. She had only needed to sign up for tesserae when she was 12, not since. Her name would only be in the reaping ball 7 times. The odds actually _were_ in her favor. She knew of several kids in school who had to sign up for the tesserae every year for their entire families. It was just Jan and her mother though, so she was actually pretty confidant and almost ill at ease. But that didn't mean she wasn't afraid.

The bell signaled the end of shift, and Janalen rose to her feet, gathering the cleaning materials, while Yenia began the long process of putting away all of the electrical equipment. Usually Jan waited for Yenia to finish, but she needed to hurry home and change so she could be to the district square on time.

When she arrived home her mother was ready with a pretty while-eyelet dress. After she changed Janalen brushed out her soft, brown hair and left it down so it framed her face.

When they got to the district square her mother gave her hand a slight squeeze, then went to stand with the rest of the district, the ones either old enough or young enough to be safe from the reaping. Janalen could see Yenia standing with her parents, and she waved. Then she went to stand with the rest of the 15 year olds.

Tania Penian, their district's escort, rose from her seat after the mayor's annual speech about the Dark Days. She stood equidistance from the two reaping balls. One for the girls, one for the boys.

"Welcome," she said in her highly accented voice. "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor. Ladies first." She walked slowly toward the reaping ball on the right. Her hand searched around for what felt like forever before she finally drew a name out. Trying to draw out the moment.

She walked back to the center and slowly unfolded the paper. She cleared her throat and spoke in a loud, clear voice, "Janalen Marxel."

Janalen was stunned into paralys before she finally understood. It didn't matter that some girls had their names in over 30 times. One of her 7 had been drawn out, and she was going into the arena as a tribute.

She shakily walked to the stage and joined Tania. "Are there any volunteers?" Tania asked the rest of the girls. Nobody answered but the wind. Of course, Jan hadn't expected anyone to take her place. District 6 wasn't as bad off as some districts, but they didn't often have volunteers.

"And now the boys," Tania said calmly.

Jan stood trying to look strong. She didn't want her competition to see her look weak. She had barely composed her face into a stoic mask when Tania was back and reading the boy's name. Elias Dranton.

Janalen's mouth fell open and her composure fell. She was certain it was all over. Elias walked confidently forward. He was the same age as Jan, and even in the some of the same classes. And he was absolutely ruthless. He had talked about volunteering for the Games almost every year, telling everyone that if he wasn't called by the time he was 18, he was going to volunteer.

Tania called for volunteers, but none came forward. She called for the two tributes to shake hands. Jan's hand was limp in his forceful grip. She looked into his eyes, and felt like she was looking into the eyes of a wolf. He was excited to kill. And she was going to be in the arena with him.


	3. Opening Ceremony

Janalen was barely aware that District 6 was applauding them. The only thing she was aware of was the cold glint in Elias' eyes. _He won't even feel bad about having to kill me_, she realized. Even if they were from the same district. He wouldn't feel any remorse. Looking into his eyes hardened Jan's resolve. If given the chance, she would not hesitate to kill him.

A Peacekeeper was herding them like cattle into the Justice Building where they would say their last goodbyes to friends and family. The plush velvet of the couch she sat on was more extravagant than anything Janalen had ever seen. It probably cost more than her entire house. The door opened and her mother was being escorted in. Jan ran into her mother's arms and they just held each other. Her mother was crying, but Jan couldn't let herself. There would be cameras at the train station.

Finally her mother released her and looked into her eyes. "Do whatever you have to in order to come home," she said. Jan smiled sadly. They both knew what she had to do in order to come home, but her mom didn't want to say it; to condone it. Jan would have to kill innocent people. She would have to face 23 others, and she would have to be the last standing.

"I'll try, Mom. I really will," Jan told her, and she would. Even if she didn't think she could win, she would not go down without a fight.

They embraced again, and her mother was escorted out of the room and out of Janalen's life. Probably forever.

A couple of girls from school visited her with fine sentiments of friendship, but Jan found she couldn't quite focus on what they were saying, and she hardly noticed when they left.

The last person to visit her was Yenia. She walked over to the couch and sat down next to Janalen. She put her arms around her and just talked. About nothing in particular; just like they did every day at work. Jan actually found herself able to laugh and joke. Never once did Yenia look in danger of tears, and she never said anything about the Games or their inevitable separation. When the Peacekeeper came to retrieve her she simply stood and left. She didn't even say goodbye. In a strange way, that seemed to be exactly what Jan needed. She wouldn't have been able to say goodbye without breaking down. Yenia must have known that, so she didn't even give her the opportunity.

The Peacekeepers were back then, and escorting Janalen to a car in the back of the Justice Building. Jan had never ridden in a car, but she found it less remarkable than she had been expecting. The train station was empty, except for a few different camera people and Elias. He obviously hadn't been crying. Was it even possible to cry when your heart was covered in ice and hatred?

They boarded the train following Tania and the two previous victors who would be their mentors. Corbean Rasou, the mentor for Elias, and Janalen's own mentor Roshin Belsnat. The doors closed, cutting them off from the cameras, and the train began to move. Jan was only able to get one last look at the station where she and Yenia had spent countless hours laughing and joking together, where they had been just hours ago. Now, odds were she would never see it again.

It was a two-day ride to the Capitol. Apart from meals, which were mandatory, she stayed in her room the entire time. She wanted as little contact with the other people on the train as she could get.

During lunch on the second day, the Capitol finally came into view. It was astonishing how grand it was. And all the people in the streets wore the most bizarre fashion statements. But she had been expecting that. She ran to a window for a better look, and the people on the streets started cheering and waving as they recognized another tribute train. Janalen turned away quickly and didn't go back.

The last ten minutes of the train ride seemed to take longer than the entire two day journey, but finally they train pulled into the station and the doors opened. She disembarked the train and was immediately swept up by three capitol citizens. Her prep team.

Janalen tried to tune them out as they worked on her. Polishing, waxing, and plucking her body. She was then allowed to meet her stylist, Casca. She swept into the prep room and just surveyed Janalen's naked body. It made Jan very uncomfortable.

After a few minutes, Jan was allowed to don a robe and sit down. Casca was talking excitedly about the outfit she had designed for the opening ceremonies. District 6 was "The Transportation District". When Janalen saw the costume, she was mortified. _This_ is what Casca was raving about? She was more or less going to be dressed as a train. But she couldn't complain. It wasn't up to her what she wore, but her stylist. Too bad her stylist had no good judgment.

She was loaded into a horse-drawn carriage next to Elias, who was dressed as a car. If it wasn't so embarrassing, and if Elias didn't scare her so badly, she might have laughed. They both looked like idiots.

The opening ceremonies began and they moved into the sixth spot. The horses were well trained and new when and where to move. When they rode into the crowd there were a few cheers, but not many. District 6 was never a favorite, but there were worse districts, like District 12 whose tributes were dressed in uncomplimentary coal miner outfits.

They rode all the way to the President's manor and stopped there. President Snow was on the balcony welcoming them. "Welcome, tributes of the 58th Hunger Games." The crowd roared with approval. After a few more opening remarks, the horses were off again, circling and taking them back the way they had come. Janalen could see the training center in the distance. It would be her home in the days to come.

As soon as they were out of the screaming crowd's line of sight, Jan closed her eyes tightly. Even though she willed it not to, a tear escaped. She wiped it away angrily and saw that Elias was watching her with a very toothy smile. He sensed an easy kill already. Janalen clenched her teeth together and looked straight ahead.

He had seen her be weak. She looked at him again out of the corner of her eyes. She knew that she would be the first he came for in the arena. She looked ahead again, thinking to herself, _That means he will be the first one I have to kill._


End file.
